Interrupted
by LabyrinthRunner13
Summary: When Gabriel has to use the reader as an emergency vessel, he inadvertently destroys her mind. Now, Sam and Dean have to fight to rescue Cas, find Gabriel and restore the reader's sanity. And they have to do it while dealing with the increasingly severe psychosis that Gabriel left behind.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: When Gabriel has to use the reader as an emergency vessel, he inadvertently destroys her mind. Now, Sam and Dean have to fight to rescue Cas, find Gabriel and restore the reader's sanity. And they have to do it while dealing with the increasingly severe psychosis that Gabriel left behind.

Rating: T for now, but definitely headed towards an M.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Castiel, Reader, Crowley, Charlie.

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/Castiel

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Pain, self-harm, violent outbursts, manic/depressive, depression, psychosis, eating disorders, schizophrenia, delusions, hallucinations, hurt/comfort.

A/N – I'm not entirely caught up on SPN yet, I've only just started Season 10, so while this is all supposed to take place within the canon-verse, there is likely to be quite a bit of divergence. Also, I'm kind of ignoring the mark, at this point. It may or may not come into play.

 **Chapter 1 – Desperate Times**

"Look. All I'm saying is that you have zero self-control. You're at it like bunnies." Dean thundered down the steps to the bunker, arms loaded down with duffel bags.

"Dude." Sam was right behind him. He couldn't really come up with a decent argument to counter Dean's statement, so he settled for an epic bitch face.

"I'm sorry ok? Can you just, let it go? You're gonna embarrass her—and I'm the one that's gonna suffer for it."

Dean snorted. "She should be embarrassed. You guys stole my car and left me sitting at a diner in the middle of nowhere for two and a half hours." Dean smirked- it was self-righteous and infuriating. Sam rolled his eyes.

"So… you're saying that you never left me stranded in a motel for two days while you and Castiel disappeared to… "do recon"?" His finger quotes were practically audible. "Or how about the time the two of you trashed a hotel room and lost a hundred-dollar security deposit because you got too enthusiastic with your… "de-briefing"?" Dean had turned to face him and thrown his hands up, opening his mouth to object, but Sam cut him off with, "Or what about the time you almost killed all four of us when you tried to wrap your car around a tree because Cas had his face in your –"

"OK! Ok. Jesus." Dean managed to blush and look murderous at the same time.

You finally appeared at the top of the landing, lugging grocery bags into the bunker. The smile slid off of your face to be replaced with a suspiciously raised eyebrow when you noticed them both looking at you with twin expressions of guilt.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing."

"Oh yea. Cause when the both of you answer "nothing" at the same exact time, that's not cause for concern." You held their gazes for another minute, but when they didn't give anything away, you slid down the last couple of steps and added your grocery bags to the pile of crap building up on the table.

"Ok gentlemen!" you announced with a grandiose wave of your hand, "As per our arrangement and Dean's glorious defeat, I get the first shower and you get to unload all the crap. Enjoy!" You turned on your heel and marched down the hallway towards the largest bathroom.

"I still can't believe she got that waitress to give up her phone number. I'll give her one thing, she's got game." Dean threw that last over his shoulder as he jogged back up the stairs to the car to get the last of the bags. Sam just rolled his eyes. He knew, for a fact, that Dean was going to continue to make ridiculous wagers with you just to watch you flirt with more hot women. He looked at his brother's retreating back, and then glanced down the hallway towards where you had disappeared. If he moved quick enough, he could be in the shower with you, with the door locked behind him before Dean ever came back in with the rest of the stuff. He took off at a jog.

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Three weeks later, you and Sam were working in the library trying to find a case. It had been an extremely slow news week. No pings on the spooky-stuff radar, no calls for help, no weird deaths, and nothing at all outta heaven or hell. You had all been content to take a breather and relax for the first three days. But now, the nervous tension was inching towards level orange and you were feeling crowded and on edge.

Dean had left earlier in the morning to head into town for a supply run, alleging "If I have to stand here and watch Y/N pace around like a caged animal for another week, I'm gonna crawl outta my skin." It was hard to find fault with his assessment since you were currently pacing the length of the library with your tablet in your hand, scanning the news articles.

Sam was sitting at the table with his head in his hands, hunched over his laptop performing some kind of complicated algorithm search. Every few seconds, you'd glance at him, letting your eyes roam over his broad shoulders or his narrow waist. You'd start to let ideas form in your head, and then you'd abruptly shake them out and return your attention to the tablet. You'd been down this road before. You knew that you could distract yourselves with awesome, frustrated sex, but as soon as it was over, you'd be back to pacing, he'd be back to searching, and you'd still be just as trapped as you had been before the distraction. So, you went back to your reading and tried to focus. For all of five more minutes.

Sam jumped when you tossed your tablet onto the map table with a bang. Then he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, no doubt hoping you were about to announce an impending vampire incursion or werewolf plague somewhere in the pacific northwest.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm going out of my mind. I'm going to go work out."

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything." Sam nodded to you and then lowered his eyes back to his laptop.

You loped off down the hall, stopping at your bedroom to change into a pair of running tights and a sports bra. You swapped your hiking boots for a pair of fluorescent sneakers and pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail atop your head.

The gym had been bare bones when you'd first been offered refuge at the bunker. You were slowly bringing in equipment. Adding things here or there when you didn't think anyone was paying attention. Like the treadmill. Sam preferred running outside, but you refused to get up early for anything other than a good fight or a fuck, so you liked the treadmill. Yes, it was boring as hell. But you could also run at noon without getting a sunburn. You plugged your IPod into the speaker near the door and loaded up the most energizing playlist you had- lots of fast, heavy beat and aggressive lyrics.

You pounded out 3 miles on the treadmill and then stretched extensively. You hit the weights, stretched some more, did squats and push-ups till you lost count and then jumped back on the treadmill. The music thumping out of the speaker was almost enough to cover the sound of the bunker door slamming open, but not quite. You were just able to make-out Dean's joyous shout of- "Pack it up, assholes, we have a case!"

The tension that you had been completely unable to work out of your body by beating it into submission disappeared immediately. Laser focus settled in and you smiled. Just what you all needed. Here's hoping for a fight.

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It served you right.

You'd been hoping for a fight.

You'd been praying for something to let you all blow off a little steam.

You'd been hopelessly unprepared.

You were outnumbered. Outclassed. Out-gunned. And out of time.

The four of you had rolled up in the Impala. Fed-suits on and ready to investigate a large string of disappearances. And you'd spilled out right in the middle of a boiling turf-war between a gang of demons and the biggest nest of vampires you'd ever seen in your life.

To your immense mortification and certain embarrassment, you'd been kidnapped before any of you had time to say "holy water" and the demons had held you hostage in the middle of an abandoned warehouse (of course. It wouldn't make any sense to take a hostage to say, a yacht club or a health retreat) in order to try to draw the Winchester brothers into the melee. Which is how come you were on the other side of the fighting from the boys and had been unable to warn them not to involve Cas.

The demons had an end game. You didn't know the exact particulars, but you knew that it didn't have anything to do with taking an Arizona college town away from some two-bit vampires. The demons needed an angel. And they needed one that heaven wasn't going to knock over any chess pieces to get back. This wasn't about you. It wasn't about Tempe and it wasn't even about the Winchesters. It was about Cas. And loathe though you were to admit it, it wasn't actually a bad plan.

Sam and Dean were relatively predictable when it came to all things damsel. They'd be motivated to get you back unharmed, and they'd call in whatever nuclear capability was necessary to ensure that that happened. Which is why you were not surprised at all surprised to see the three lead singers in Team Free Will's boy band come bursting through the ranks clear across the room from where you were tied and gagged. Furious though you were at having been cast in the roll of damsel-in-distress, you had to admit that looking at the four of you, you definitely gave off the most "wounded antelope" vibe. Even if the demons had had to strip you of more guns, knives and holy water than a Buffy convention.

You tried to make some noise. You tried to pray to Cas, to tell him to watch his back and get himself out of there. You would have tried interpretive dance, but you were bound pretty tightly, wrists and ankles immobilized, so you just had to stand there helplessly, and watch the chaos unfold.

There were about twenty demons standing in between you and the boys. Unfortunately, these weren't your run of the mill lackey demons. These were highly weaponized demons. Foot soldiers with all the training and artillery that went along with that. Standing directly in front of you were two large male soldiers that had guns in their hands and knives long enough to be called swords strapped across their backs.

There was approximately 2.5 seconds of complete silence when your boys first burst into the room. And then there was an absolute explosion of sound. Gun shots, shouting, the sounds of wood splintering and glass breaking. And then screaming. You tried to follow everything that was happening. You couldn't even see Sam anymore, and Dean had given up on the gun and was hacking his way through a crowd of demons with the angel blade. You searched frantically for Castiel, still praying with everything you had to try to get his attention. The door behind you opened, and more demons poured into the room. This was it. This was how you were going to die.

And then, blessed silence. You widened your eyes. You could still see the battle raging all around you, but it was like, someone had suddenly muted the movie. You could hear your breathing- harsh around the gag still in your mouth. And then a bright light touched your face, and you tilted your eyes into the warm, calming brightness.

And then, suddenly, there was a warm, smiling voice in your head.

"Heya, Kiddo. Need to borrow your desktop for a minute to save your boyfriend's sweet ass. What do you say?"

You didn't recognize the voice, but you did recognize the feeling of an angelic presence. You didn't even have to really think about it. The silence was still deafening, so you heard yourself loud and clear when you yelled out, "Yes!"

Sam didn't need an omniscient narrator to tell him that they were in deep shit. They had severely underestimated the number of demons that they were dealing with, but when your informant was a vampire snitch, shit like that happens.

Sam had seen you briefly, tied to a column and gagged when they'd first blown the door off its hinges. But then the chaos had exploded outward. He'd lost sight of Cas, lost sight of Dean, and was currently relying on instinct and adrenalin to keep from being buried by the tide of demons that had thrown themselves forward. But something was wrong.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that ending the Winchesters was not the end game here. Every single demon that he cut down was armed with at least one firearm, and yet, as far as Sam could tell, the only one actually firing a weapon in the warehouse was Dean. Sam dodged a swinging knife and rolled himself forward, coming back up onto his feet and swinging his own blade, backhanded, and planting it hilt-deep into the chest of yet another demon.

But if the demons were being careful, that begged the question, why?

"SAM!" Dean bellowed his name from across the room. Sam dodged another swing and cast his eyes around, trying to locate his brother. He still couldn't see Dean, but his eyes landed on Cas. He had made his way almost all the way across the room, but he was moving slowly now. Something was very wrong.

Sam flung holy water at two more demons and then took advantage of their distraction to make a run for Cas. He hadn't even crossed twenty feet when he watched him get swarmed completely. And then it became clear. It was a trap. They'd known that much. But the trap wasn't for him. And it wasn't for Dean. It was for Cas.

The demons slammed a set of silver manacles down onto Cas' wrists and his knees buckled, and before either of the Winchesters could do anything about it, he was dragged backwards through the door. That was when the gunfire started.

It seemed that there was no longer any reason to be careful.

But then, a high, clear, _achingly familiar_ voice rang out across the room. It echoed from the corners, and bounced off the ceiling.

"Alright boys, CLOSE THOSE EYES!"

Sam and Dean knew better than to question a command like that. They'd worked with Castiel long enough and Pamela's fate was burned into their brains in a permanent kinda way. And they trusted you. They squeezed their eyes shut.

Even with his eyes shut, the blindingly white light seared Sam's retinas right through his eyelids. The ground shook and the thunderous noise rose to a deafening pitch. Sam was tossed off of his feet and he had to work to keep his eyes shut as he hit the ground on all fours.

And then there was nothing. The light faded and once the ringing in his ears went away, he heard it. Y/N's voice.

"Alright, open 'em up kiddos, and hurry up about it. Sam, your doll baby here is not pimped-out to be an archangels ride."

"Gabriel?" Dean recovered first. He was on his feet and crossing the room, clambering over fallen demons before Sam could even get to his feet.

"The one and only, bucko."

"Get out of her!" Sam growled. His voice was low and wrecked. He sounded feral, even to himself. "You're gonna burn her out, get out!"

"Hey, hey!" Gabriel held Y/N's hands up in front of her in a placating gesture. "The damage has been done already, sweetie-pie. She said yes, and let me in. She took the bullet for you. You might as well let me pass along a message before I vacate. Keep your trap shut and let me get this out."

Dean threw his arms around Sam's chest and physically held him back.

"Listen. Clearly, you've noticed that this wasn't ever about you. And it wasn't about Y/N, here."

"They were after Cas." Dean's voice cracked on Cas' name, and Sam suddenly felt horrible for not being able to get to him sooner.

"Right-o. Listen. There's a war on. A war for hell. Your buddy Crowley is one front of a three sided offensive that is raging down in hell to declare top dog and piss on the throne. But the other sides are playing dirty. Intelligence up in Heaven knew they were out for an angel. And nobody knows why, but they need him alive."

Sam shook his head. It was hard to listen to Gabriel talking out of your mouth, using your voice and still puzzle through the implications of what was being said. All he could think about was the burned out shells that he knew got left behind- the drooling, wrecked pieces of humanity like the ones that Raphael had left behind him. Luckily, he and Dean were a team, and Dean was picking up the slack and asking the important questions. He tuned back in just in time to hear Gabriel say-

"Ok. So, I'm afraid there has been quite a bit of damage in here already- not getting the security deposit back, if you know what I mean. Nobody's fault, she wasn't really properly prepared for this. I'm going to do what I can when I leave. But listen- I'm not corporeal yet. I don't have a vessel. I'm working on it, but I'm real weak and slagging your demonic playmates here has really taken the wind outta my sails. It's going to take some time. If you want to see Cas' alive you've got to get him back, on your own and post-haste, like. Yesterday, if you catch my drift. When I do make it back down there, dirt-side, I promise I'll do everything I can to patch-up Sammy's playboy bunny here."

Sam growled and lunged, but Dean slammed his hand down over Sam's eyes and squeezed his own shut. Every remaining lightbulb in the room blew, leaving them in near complete darkness.

When they opened their eyes again, Y/N was lying on the floor, motionless, eyes closed and face still. The only light in the room was trickling in from the dirty windows near the ceiling. But it was enough. Sam watched her chest rise and fall. He was by her side before he even consciously considered moving. Calling her name softly. Shaking a shoulder, patting the side of her face.

"Come on, Y/N, wake up!"

Dean knelt down next to him, and Sam looked up into his eyes. His expression was hard, his mouth pressed into a line. Nothing to relate the look on his face to the tears that were running down his dusty cheeks. Sam wanted to apologize for failing to save Cas. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell Dean that it wasn't his fault either, but he couldn't say any of those things.

Because you were right there in front of him. And you might never wake up again.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: When Gabriel has to use the reader as an emergency vessel, he inadvertently destroys her mind. Now, Sam and Dean have to fight to rescue Cas, find Gabriel and restore the reader's sanity. And they have to do it while dealing with the increasingly severe psychosis that Gabriel left behind.

Rating: T for now, but definitely headed towards an M.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Castiel, Reader, Crowley, Charlie.

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/Castiel

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Pain, self-harm, violent outbursts, manic/depressive, depression, psychosis, eating disorders, schizophrenia, delusions, hallucinations, hurt/comfort.

A/N – Speaking of canon-divergence- I'm ignoring Charlie's death. Cause it was stupid. And Charlie is awesome.

***Trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter. Seriously. Please be good to yourself and don't read if you think you might be triggered. ****

Sam heaved an enormous sigh and let his head fall back against the stone wall outside of his room. He was holding yet another tray of food, which you had completely refused to even entertain eating. He was starting to think that they were making a mistake by not taking you to the hospital. It had been three full days since the warehouse and until today, you'd been refusing food and water completely.

Sam shook his head to try to clear his thoughts and walked the tray back to the kitchen.

"Well?" Dean looked up when Sam walked in with a raised brow.

Sam shook his head, and set the tray down on the counter. "She finally drank some water. And she didn't throw anything this time. But Dean… she won't eat. It feels like she's getting frustrated with me offering- I don't know what else to try."

Dean blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. Sam immediately felt guilty. No matter what your condition, you were still here. They had no idea where Cas was. They'd had exactly zero luck trying to trace him, and Sam could easily see emotional toll it was taking on Dean.

"We're gonna find him Dean."

Dean just nodded, letting his head fall into his hands.

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You were trapped inside your head and it was killing you.

You had brief, fleeting moments when you remembered what had happened, and you knew what you were supposed to be doing. During these moments, the message that Gabriel had left in your head for Sam and Dean was at the forefront of your mind and you ached to deliver it.

But those moments were so short, and were too easily overwhelmed by the riot of feelings that were racing rough-shod around your mind.

Feelings.

Fear. That was at the top of the list. An overwhelming fear that made your heart race and your palms sweat. When the fear was in charge, you could feel your body start to shake and all of your muscles tense. You wanted to run, but you were terrified of what would be chasing you. You wanted to hide, but the thought of a small, dark space made you want to throw up. You were afraid of the light. Petrified of being alone. Scared to move- But too anxious to stay still.

Sadness was an inadequate word to describe the anguish you were feeling. Emotional pain so great that you could physically feel everywhere that it was tearing you apart. You were sure you'd cried more in the last 24 hours than you had in your entire life combined. It didn't do any good to try to figure out the cause of the sadness- because there wasn't one. These feelings existed independently from anything else and they were completely overwhelming.

And then you were so angry. You could feel your blood pressure rise and your jaw clench. You hated- you hated everyone. You hated yourself. You had to move. You felt trapped. You kicked and struggled against your captors, but you were overpowered. And that made you livid. You could literally see red… it was creeping in at the edge of your vision. And you were so angry at yourself. You knew that you were supposed to be strong- strong people did not behave this way. You were so damn furious at yourself. Weak. You were weak.

And over and over, repeat ad nauseum until you were so tired that you collapsed and slept. You did not dream. You weren't ever asleep long enough. You were exhausted.

People came in and out of your room. Strangers. Sometimes they found you sitting in the bed. Sometimes they found you curled up at the back of your closet. Sometimes you met them at the door, kicking, biting and throwing punches.

In the rare moments when you would feel the calmness settle over you, they would offer you food. The first few times, it had scared you so badly you'd thrown it away from you, ceramic and glass shattering and leaving a minefield of sharp, bloody pain for you to navigate as you scrambled to get away. The last few times, you'd simply turned your head, heart pounding and breath heaving in and out of your lungs, tears rolling down your face. You'd finally cried so much that you were impossibly thirsty, and your body had made the choice for you. Picking up the plastic cup and draining it without consulting your brain or instincts which were screaming that it was a poisonous trick.

Your heart ached, exhausted from racing. Your lungs and throat burned, from taking heaving breaths, from crying, and from screaming. You had had a pounding headache for the last two days, no doubt caused by the wild fluctuations of your blood pressure. Your emotions were killing you. Literally, they were going to kill you.

You sat on the floor of your closet, knees pulled up to your chest as you rocked. Your hands found their way down to your bandaged feet and you pulled at the bandage. Sharp, hot pain jolted up your legs from your feet, making tears spring to your eyes reflexively and you gasped and yanked your hands away.

But something else happened during that electric flash of agony... Your mind cleared. The fear, the anguish, the rage- it all faded. Replaced by a calm, slow feeling. You could almost think. There were thoughts. Ideas and questions swimming around, just beneath the surface in your mind. If you could just stay calm-

But you could already feel the fear creeping back at you. The pain was fading and the panic was ramping up- instinctively you reached out and wrapped both hands around your mangled feet and squeezed viciously. This time, the pain shot straight through you and made you cry out- a loud choking gasp. But it chased the panic away. It was almost like… like your brain couldn't contain both the emotional and the physical pain at the same time. And you knew for damned sure which was preferable.

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Sam and Dean heard you cry out, and were halfway down the hallway to your room before they realized that it was probably a bad idea to just burst in on you. Dean rubbed the blossoming bruise on his ribs where you'd landed a particularly vicious kick when he went to check on you that morning.

"You go ahead. I'll stay out here, in case-" Dean trailed off, uncomfortable with giving voice to the idea that Sam might need assistance restraining you.

Sam pushed the door open slowly, peering around it into the room. When he didn't immediately see you, he opened it the rest of the way, pressing it flush against the wall and then slinking forward slowly. His eyes flicked to the closet and he saw you sitting there, huddled against the wall, gripping your bandaged feet tightly in both hands, but looking more lucid than you had looked in 3 days.

When he knelt down just outside the closet and you didn't flinch away or begin to cry, he extended a hand towards you.

"Hey…. Y/N? Are you alright? You're hurting yourself-" he reached towards your feet to try to loosen your grip, but you looked him straight in the eye and said with authoritative clarity "Sam- stop."

Sam rocked back onto his heels- his surprise at your sudden presence of mind and recognition of him momentarily making him forget about the fresh stitches on your feet and the death grip you had on them. In the three days since returning to the bunker, you hadn't acknowledged or seemed to recognize either of them even once. Sam experienced a brief shining moment of white hot hope, but as he watched, your eyes went unfocused and you squeezed them shut, a fine trembling broke out along your arms and shoulders and your chest began to heave as you started to pant. Tears sprung to your eyes and Sam finally leaned forward and squeezed your wrists- carefully detangling your fingers from around your bleeding toes and winced at the fresh bloody mess you'd made of your feet.

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You were trapped again in the whirling cyclone of pain and terror - too far gone to even think. You could feel hands, holding you down and far away, quiet behind the crashing sounds of your mental prison, you could hear voices, murmuring softly. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, and at times, it seemed as though no sounds could reach your ears at all; the deafening silence going on and on until it almost started to physically hurt- and then it would be replaced with a veritable hurricane of sound, so loud you could feel your body remotely, flinching to get away from the noise.

Somewhere far outside your neon madness, you felt a stabbing pinch and felt your body begin to drift away. You had a brief, anxious thought that you were dying, and then nothing.

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"Jesus Christ Dean- what the hell is that?"

"Ketamine. It's a horse tranquilizer. That vet at 'Fish and Wildlife' in Eugene had a whole box of it on his desk. I just liberated a bit. Thought it might be useful."

Sam just raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't Ketamine cause…like, crazy hallucinations?"

Dean had already unwrapped the bandages from your feet and was carefully disinfecting the wounds. "Like she isn't having those already? Come on man."

Dean was carefully prodding the bottom of your left foot. "I'm a little worried we didn't get all the glass out of these the first time. And she's ripped out nearly half the stitches. I think I ought to just start over- or" He glanced at Sam, a calculating expression on his face.

"Or what?" Sam's response was almost tired, like he knew what was coming.

"I feel like we might be in over our head. She needs a hospital."

"We can't take her to a hospital Dean. We'll be arrested on the spot."

Dean continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I feel like she's getting worse- the hallucinations, refusing food, the insomnia, the crying, the screaming- I feel like we aren't really equipped to- " He broke off at a particularly fierce bitch-face from Sam.

"We don't have to be the ones to take her in. Charlie could-"

"No. It's too dangerous. In a hospital she's completely exposed."

"Ok. You're right." Dean nodded and went back to silently stitching up the cuts from the shards of glass you'd scrambled over trying to escape your best friends.

"Look Sam, I know you said you didn't want to strap her down, but she did this to herself-"

"We're not tying her up either."

Dean just nodded and quieted, glancing up every so often at his little brother. Sam was staring down at you with a guilt-filled expression, alternating between combing his fingers through the hair at your temples and brushing them lightly across the fresh and fading bruises on your neck and shoulders. He knew that the majority of the bruises were self-inflicted, but there were also a good number of them from his hands. From Dean's hands. Accidental ones from holding you down- from trying to keep you from hurting yourself.

"It's not a long term solution of course," Dean continued carefully- "Just until Cas can-"

"Cas? Seriously? We have made exactly zero progress finding Cas! We don't even know if-" Sam slammed his mouth shut and ducked his head, a guilty expression bleeding onto his face.

"Right. Well." Dean tied off the last knot, pushed himself up and walked to the door.

"Dean, wait-"

Dean answered him by slamming the door behind him.

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You were warm. Blissfully so. And there was a warm, soft light all around you. You knew instinctively that it was a dream, but there was an overwhelming feeling of peace, and so you weren't overly inclined to fight it.

The light gradually faded, and you were able to focus on your surroundings. You smiled and took a deep breath as you recognized your surroundings. The scent of warm chocolate was almost tangible- you could practically taste the air. You turned in a slow circle- taking in the cool white walls and the black and white tiles before stepping up to the covered glass display case that ran along an entire wall and held an impossible assortment of fancy chocolate candy.

You heard him before you saw him. Somehow, in your mind, he felt familiar. He felt safe and comfortable. And he was smiling broadly as he walked out behind the counter and stopped in front of you.

He was wearing a white, short sleeved button up shirt with black trim and a black tie. He grinned and propped his elbows up on the top of the display case and winked at you before holding out a small brown paper cup with a fancy chocolate truffle in it. "Sample?"

You took the candy from him and popped it in your mouth.

"You know- I used to come to this shop all the time when I was a kid. I love this place" you said with your mouth full of chocolate- just like when you were a kid except this time, your step mother wasn't here to scold you and the chocolate tasted just slightly sweeter without the flavor of guilt mixed in.

"I know, kiddo. I took a joy ride through your hard drive, remember?"

You looked at him more closely. You'd never seen him before- you would have remembered that face, but he still felt achingly familiar to you.

"Who are you?" you asked, licking the remainder of the chocolate out of your mouth and wishing you had something to wash it down with.

"Gabriel. My name is Gabriel." A tall frosty glass of milk appeared on the counter in front of you and you picked it up with both hands and took a long sip and then grinned.

"Thanks, Gabriel."

"Nothing for nothing, princess. I need an assist." He looked briefly guilty. "Again."

You were curious about that, but you also knew this was a dream. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you weren't standing in the middle of a chocolate shop with a handsome stranger, drinking an icy glass of milk and you almost felt as though your body was actively pulling you away.

The lights in the shop dimmed momentarily and Gabriel glanced up at them.

"Straight to business then, gorgeous. I need you to deliver a message to your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend?"

"Oh come on toots, you know the one. Tall, dark and shaggy? Answers to Moose?"

Sam suddenly appeared before you, the lights dimming again and the smell of chocolate being replaced with the smell of damp stone and antiseptic. You could feel Sam's large hands on your shoulders and hear his voice, far off like, trying to say something to you. It felt like-

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get back to that chocolate shop in California, trying to get back to Gabriel and the truffles and the milk, but that feeling wouldn't go away. It felt like…. Like….

"Y/N? Can you hear me?"

A heavy cloud of anguish settled over you like a blanket filled with bricks and you began to cry.

It felt like waking up.

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Sam was pacing. He'd stayed until you'd woken up. At first, you'd looked… better. That was the only way to describe it. You looked refreshed. Like you'd slept for the first time in weeks. And then you'd very quickly started to cry.

He'd stayed through the first wave of tears. Stroking your hair, your arms, anywhere you'd tolerate him touching you, until the despair and misery had given way to anxiety. He wanted so badly to wrap you up in a strong hug and make everything better, but how could he? He couldn't even see the things you were afraid of. All he could do was stay.

He stayed through the first hallucination. Your head had jerked up, nostrils flaring.

"Help!"

Sam swung around to look behind him, knowing from three days' experience that there was nothing in the room, but years of living a hunter's life leaving him helpless against the instinct of checking.

"Help! Oh god- Something's burning!"

He took a couple of steps towards you, but you flung up your hands and backed into the corner again.

"Can't you smell that? It's so strong! Something's on fire!" you voice was high and panicked. Sam's heart started racing, but he forced his voice to be calm. He put his hands up- palms forward.

"Nothing's burning. Everything is fine."

You sunk down onto your heels, wrapped your arms around your knees and tucked your head. Sam edged towards you, sitting himself down a few feet away and talking quietly the whole time.

He talked about his father. He talked about Bobby, and Ellen and Jo. He talked about Charlie and Kevin. He told you about his stint in the mental institution. He told you about Gabriel and Michael and Adam and the cage. And he told you about how conflicted he was. How badly he felt about Cas, how guilty he felt about Dean. He told you how he felt like he needed to be out, helping Dean look for Cas. He told you how scared he was to leave you alone.

You heard none of it.

All he could do was stay.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean padded quietly down the hall. Everything in your room had gone quiet about an hour ago. He thought- he hoped- that you were sleeping. He hated to come in and disturb the peace, what little of it that there was, but he was pretty sure he had finally caught a break.

He twisted the door knob and pushed the door open slowly, expecting to see both you and Sam. Instead, he saw no one. The light was on and the door squeaked quietly as he pushed it in. He spotted you first, curled up in the closet, eyes open and staring at something on the floor on the other side of the bed from him.

Dean could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he crossed the room. You'd been reacting with such unpredictable violence- he didn't really think that Sam would allow you to hurt him, but….

Dean heaved a sigh of relief when he got to the end of the bed and saw Sam, stretched out of the floor, chest rising and falling steadily. 

Dean leaned over slowly, wary of the girl in the closet acting like a frightened animal and shook Sam's shoulder to wake him.

Sam jerked awake with a gasp.

"Hey- hey. Rise and shine sleeping beauty. Caught a lead."

He waited for Sam to sit up and watched him rub his hands through his hair before peering up at him blearily.

"Lead?" Sam grunted.

Dean bit back a sarcastic comment about cave men.

"Morning paper from Milwuakee, WI is reporting signs of major demon activity in the area- if we leave in an hour we can be there by two."

Sam blinked at Dean, and then looked at you over his shoulder. "What about-"

"Listen. I know it isn't ideal, but I think we have to take her to the hospital. We can get Charlie-"

"No Dean! Forget it! A hospital is too dangerous. You go. I'll stay here."

"Sam. I need you man. Cas… needs you." Dean stared at his brother- willing him to see sense.

"What if…" Sam trailed off, trying to think through the ramifications of his next suggestion.

"What?"

"What if we just ask Charlie to come and sit with her? I'm sure she'd-"

"No- that's a good idea. I'll call her. You pack."

A/N- I took a four-month hiatus from this story, but I feel REALLY accomplished about it. I moved my six-year-old and myself to Washington state, started a new job, found a new house and got the offspring settled in her new school. But my point is, that it's not going to be four months before I update this again. I'm aiming for a chapter a week


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